


if the world were kind

by rywaen



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bisexuality, Cardiophilia, F/M, Happy Ending, Happy Kisses, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Please ignore the awful science-y bits I have no idea how to science, Polyamory, a little bit of finger sucking because why not, hearbeats, sort of a slow burn but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 17:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1656155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rywaen/pseuds/rywaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Osborn is dying, Gwen Stacy is leaving the country, and Peter Parker is losing everyone he loves.</p>
<p>an au in which things actually go right for Peter Parker for once and these poor kids get to be happy, at least for a little while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if the world were kind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aisu10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisu10/gifts).



> So, I wrote this for aisu10 because it's our two year friendiversary and I really wanted to write something like this anyway. I have no idea if it sucks or if it's okay, but I wrote it just to write it really. Un-beta'd, written in literally a few hours. Hope you enjoy it at least a little bit.

_“I’m dying, Peter.”_

It hits him hard and leaves his rib cage feeling bruised and battered, his heart stuttering and skipping a beat. He can’t have heard him right, Harry couldn’t be dying. He licks his lips and tries to speak but his throat is too dry to make anything more than a choked sound.

_“Did you hear me? I need you, Peter, I think you can help.”_

It takes all of his effort to swallow and dislodge the baseball sized lump in his throat just so that he can reply. Harry needs him. He _needs_ him.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m here. I heard you. I, uh, how do you think I can help? Do you need me to bring something? What’s—what’s happened?” He is all clumsy words and shaky breaths and searching eyes as he sits up enough to plant his feet on his bedroom floor. Nothing but nervous energy ran through him, making his fingers clench around his cellphone tight as he fisted his free hand in his hair. “…Harry?” He realizes that he hasn’t replied yet. Something’s wrong.

_“I can’t talk about it now. Can you just—can you meet me? I’m at home. I don’t—I can’t—“_

“Yeah, hey, no, that’s fine. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Do you need anything or just—just me?”

A soft sigh comes from over the line, a relieved sound. He was relieved that Peter was going to be there for him. It made Peter wonder if Harry had ever doubted that he would refuse. What kind of friend—what kind of _hero_ would he be if he said no?

_“No. Just you.”_

“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

_“Yeah. Thanks, Peter.”_

The line went dead and his hands started shaking so hard he dropped his phone onto the surface of his bed, destined to get lost within the sheets and comforters and he would have to ask Aunt May to call him just so that he could find it again before he left. But that didn’t matter, none of that mattered. What mattered was that Harry, his best friend from so long ago and best friend again after all this time, was dying. He was dying and Peter didn’t know why, but he did know that he would do anything to prevent it.

For a little while, he just sat on the edge of his bed, elbows digging into his knees, face in his hands and silently thinking. There had been so much going on lately. Gwen was gone, already on her way for summer classes. He had just barely made it the night before, meeting her at the airport like every goddamn cliché in every movie. He hated it, but she had laughed and playfully smacked him as he shoved his mask into his pocket and gave her a tired smile.

“This was supposed to make things easier,” she told him, clicking her tongue when his shoulders dropped and his head rolled back, a low groan in his throat as he stepped closer.

“Yeaaaah, well, that’s not fair because I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

She smiled softly, pressing her hand against his collarbone as he pressed their foreheads together and let his eyes slip shut, swallowing down the urge to cry. Her eyes were still on him, searching his face but he didn’t want to see. Didn’t want her to see the wetness in his eyes.

“It’s not forever, Peter. It’s just university. And we can skype each other all the time,” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear her over the hustle and bustle of the airport around them. He was keeping her from leaving, had only just caught her before she went through security, couldn’t go any further himself without a ticket.

“I know,” he choked out, making his face twist into an expression of grief and agony, his heart breaking in front of her and he felt her arms reach up and wrap around his neck, rubbing soothing circles against his skin.

“Hey. Peter,” she cooed, nudging his nose with her own, trying to make his eyes open. And they did, a singular tear dripping down as his lashes parted. “It’s okay. This will be good for both of us. We need space. You need to stop worrying about me. I need to do this. It’ll be okay, right?” Searching his eyes with her own, she pressed one palm to his chest again, just over his heart. “Promise me.”

“What?” he choked out, looking away again and sniffing hard, reaching up to dry his cheek. Couldn’t look at her.

“Promise me that you’re going to be okay. Promise me that you’ll be careful while I’m gone.”

“I—I can’t do that, Gwen. You _know_ I can’t.”

“Shut up, yes you can. _Promise_ me, Peter.”

Biting his lip hard, he squeezed his eyes shut again and she pressed her fingertips to his chin and turned his face, pressing her soft lips to his cheek. Murmuring gentle words against his skin. “Promise me. Be okay.”

A hard swallow. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, nodding hard and final, eyes still shut tight.

“Yeah. Okay. I promise. I’ll be okay. This—This will be fine. We’ll be okay.”

“You mean that?” she asked, meeting his eyes again as he opened them, drier this time than they were before.

“Yes—yeah. I mean it. I promise.”

Gwen looked skeptical for a few moments, giving him an even stare that bore into him that only she could accomplish, making him squirm until she finally nodded, accepting that he wasn’t lying.

“Good. I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you when I land, okay?”

Peter nodded again and kept himself from leaning in and kissing her lips, instead pressing his lips to her forehead before pulling her in for one last tight hug. He missed her already. The way they fit together, not at all perfectly. He was all sharp, boney angles and built up muscle while she was soft curves and lean muscle, her strength hidden underneath her feminine features. They didn’t fit together easily, but that was why he loved her so much.

“Go,” he said, pulling out of the hug and nodding his head toward the security checkpoint, hands shoved deep into his pockets and his shoulders rolling forward. “Good luck. Call me. Okay?”

“Okay. Peter?” she asked, gathering up her carryon bag and tucking a stray piece of hair over her ear.

“Yeah?”

The silence between them lingered for longer than he wanted it to and he wasn’t able to look at her still, keeping his eyes firmly on the tops of his shoes as he kicked at the scuffed tile.

“Don’t get in too much trouble without me, okay?”

This time, he couldn’t answer, just nodded in an exaggerated way, letting her know he _knew_ for goodness sake. An arm shot out towards the security station and he gestured for her to just _go_ already. And then she was turning around and leaving, walking away from him and he had to physically bite down on his tongue to keep from yelling after her.

Gwen was gone. Two messages from her on his phone were waiting for him when he woke up, one text, one voicemail. She was okay. She was safe and getting settled in. He had been meaning to call her back, but then Harry—oh, Harry.

A shaky breath forced itself out of him and he bent even further forward, pressing his chest to his thighs and he gripped his ankles with his hands, pressing his face to his knees. Why did everything have to happen all at once for him all the time?

Gwen was _gone_. Harry was—was _dying_. And his dad—

That had happened yesterday, too. Finding out about what had happened to his dad. What his dad had done. It all made sense, why he was Spider-Man, even if he had never been all that special. It had occurred to him that if he had been anyone else and bit, well…

Honestly he couldn’t even imagine what might have happened to him. But he had been a Parker, his father’s DNA making it possible for him to be who he was. To be Spider-Man. If that wasn’t fate, he honestly wasn’t sure what it was. Dumb luck, maybe.

He stood up finally and grabbed the jeans he had worn the night before, almost tripping as he pulled them on and scratched at his chest, sighing and shaking his head as he rolled his shoulders.

Why him? Why did his life have to be so complicated? He was still just a kid, though he was loath to admit it. Sure, Gwen leaving might have happened even if his life wasn’t so damn complicated. And Harry dying? Well, that wasn’t his fault, not that he knew of. And his father…

No, it wasn’t that his life was complicated, it was just that life was hard. Life was cruel and complicated and hard to deal with if you weren’t prepared to go up against the hardships that were being thrown at you. The fact that he was a masked superhero with powers like a spider, that was just a bonus.

Finishing getting dressed, he slipped out the back and ran two blocks before slipping his mask on and taking the easy way of travelling to Harry’s high-end house instead of trying to call a cab or take the train. He could always think easier when he was swinging through the streets of his city, letting the wind whip past him and he felt like he was flying.

It got his heart racing unlike anything else. Even when it would flutter or rush excitedly in his chest when he was around Gwen, it was nothing close to when he fell from rooftops and knew that he would be okay with just a quick shot to the next mark. This was his life and it sometimes sucked but he honestly wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

But thinking about Gwen being gone and Harry dying, that made the world darker. With a pointed shake of his head, he shoved the horrible thoughts out of his head for now, wanting to just get there, get to Harry see if he was right in hoping that he could help. Harry _needed_ him, and if he was being honest, he needed Harry too.

A block away, he shoved his mask into his backpack and he fixed his hair, shoving his hands in his pockets and keeping his head down the rest of the way to the gate. The booth where a security guard would usually be waiting was empty, the only way of getting in being the call box that was set into the brick itself. For a few minutes, he lingered, staring at the call box and pacing, getting himself ready to face whatever it was that was happening to Harry.

Eventually he just slammed his fist against the button, silence being his reward and he stood there awkwardly waiting for a few minutes until he heard a pitiful, “Peter?”

Harry’s voice. It sounded rough and worn even through the crackling of the call box speaker. His heart clenched in his chest and he swallowed hard, fingers curling into fists in his pockets.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Not a moment later, the buzzer sounded and the gates automatically began to slide open, letting him in and he rushed up the walkway, just shy of sprinting to the door. The fear that was crushing his heart was getting more and more painful as he approached the entryway, but he couldn’t turn back now. He needed to see Harry and he needed to help him in absolutely any way he could.

The door opened as he got to the top step and Harry stood before him, dark circles under his eyes and a clearly forced smile on his lips as he caught Peter’s eye with his own before looking away again. As if that would hide the way he looked to be just barely held together.

“Hey, Peter. Thanks for coming,” he croaked, his voice sounding even worse than it had over the call box speaker. He stepped back and let his friend inside, Peter’s eyes not leaving his face for even a second.

“Of course, man. You asked if I’d come, so, you know, of course.” Again, he wondered if Harry had expected him to not show up, to leave him alone and fending for himself. The very idea of leaving Harry to deal with whatever this was by himself, it made him feel ill.

Harry only nodded and shut the door behind him before making his way further into the house, feet shuffling and his shoulders pulled forward as he hugged his arms around his middle, perhaps trying to keep himself warm. Peter only followed silently, trying to keep his shoes from scuffing the expensive flooring as he kept just two paces behind his friend, eyes still stuck on his back even when it was clear that Harry wasn’t going to speak until they were wherever he was leading him.

That was okay, that was fine. Harry needed him and he was going to do whatever it was that Harry needed.

It turned out to be Harry’s bedroom where he was leading Peter, the whole thing looking more like an apartment in and of itself rather than just a bedroom. Or, rather, living quarters as he supposed they were called in fancy houses like this. It wasn’t surprising, knowing who Harry was, but it was different.

Standing awkwardly beside the couch, Peter watched as Harry lowered himself onto it and sat with a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face and then over his throat. Peter bit at his lower lip and rocked onto the balls of his feet and back onto his heels, still full of nervous energy that he just couldn’t seem to shake.

Only when Harry looked up and gestured for him to join him on the couch did he move, striding over in two quick steps before sitting gingerly right next to his friend, hoping that he was going to tell him now what was wrong. But he didn’t pry and he kept his head from filling up with horrible situations; that wouldn’t help either of them right then.

“I’ve got—“ Harry began, cutting himself off to clear his throat and rub at his face again with his hand, slipping his fingers up into his hair and doing his best to make it look at least a little bit presentable. It didn’t help. Peter didn’t mind. “I’ve got a genetic disease. My father had it,” he said the word ‘father’ as if the word itself were poison to be spat out, “and it killed him. Now it’s killing me. He spent his whole life trying to find a cure and he has nothing to show for it.”

Honestly, Peter had suspected that Harry had something wrong physically, something other than bleeding and bodily injury since then he would have been at the hospital just like anyone else. But knowing that it was a genetic disease that even Harry’s father hadn’t been able to find a cure for, that made it even worse.

At first, his lips parted and he felt an apology on his tongue, ready to blurt out. But he paused and he swallowed it back down, knowing that Harry wouldn’t have wanted him to say that he was sorry. Not when it wasn’t his fault, not when pity was the last thing. So he kept quiet and just let Harry continue.

“I think you can help me, Peter. You—You’re smart. You know people,” Harry explained, finally turning to let baby blue eyes grab hold of Peter’s doe brown ones and his heart clenched again even as he shook his head.

“I don’t know, Harry. I want to—don’t get that mixed up, I want to help in any way I can. But I mean… If your father couldn’t even figure out a cure, I don’t think that I, I mean who am _I?_ I’m just Peter.”

Even as he spoke, feeling hopeless, Harry shook his head and laughed softly. Just a small, broken chuckle, but it made Peter hope that there was something that he really could do for him.

“No, not like that, Pete. I mean, you know the one person who might be able to help me.”

Again, Peter had no idea what he was talking about. Instead of telling him so, he just continued to look lost as he watched Harry lick his lips and clear his throat before continuing.

“Spider-Man.”

For a moment, Peter felt his heart stutter to a stop in his chest. How had Harry found out? There was no way that he had seen him, there were no real clues to lead him to believe that regular old Peter Parker was Spider-Man.

“Uh, what?”

“Spider-Man. You know him, don’t you?”

Tempted as he was to let out a sigh of relief that Harry didn’t actually know that he _was_ Spider-Man, he instead sucked in a slow breath and curled his fingers over his knees, keeping himself together.

“I take his pictures, sometimes, if that’s what you mean, yeah. I don’t…why do you want Spider-Man, though? What’s he got to do with any of this?”

“My father,” again, the word was spit out like a curse, “didn’t even get to bring his tests to human trials. They wouldn’t let him, said it was too dangerous, too unstable. But Spider-Man. He can do everything else a spider can. He can heal, too. He must have been tested on or bitten or something. His blood contains the spider’s venom, the same spiders that my father’s company tested on and then killed off.”

Knowing what he knew after finding Roosevelt, Peter knew he was right. Harry didn’t know the whole story, couldn’t see the whole picture, but he was on track.

“If I could just get some of his blood, then he could cure me. He’s got to. It’s got to work. He has the cure in his veins and my father and his board were all too stupid to see it. They thought it wouldn’t work on humans, so they scrapped it all, but Spider-Man got it in him before they threw it all away.”

“Harry—“ he began, getting cut off.

“Peter, please don’t talk to me like that. I _know_ you know him,” he growled, but it had less bite in his words and more desperation.

“Look, I just…Maybe we need to just talk about this a bit more. Give it more time, okay?”

“I don’t _have_ time!” he shouted, looking like he was on the brink of tears and Peter immediately slid even closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. Harry’s head tucked up under his chin and his other arm wrapping around his throat loosely, just cradling his head.

“No, hey, it’s okay. Listen, just listen to me, okay?” he asked, waiting to feel a slow nod under his chin in reply before he went on. “I’m going to do everything I can to help. I promise you that. I will. But we have to be careful. Without testing it first, it would be dangerous, especially if you’re right about him and he was tested on.”

At first, he felt Harry shift in his arms and he could have sworn that he was going to be shoved back, cold fingertips grasping his forearm and just lingering there for a few moments, deciding. But then he just nodded again and if Peter felt wet tears on his arm, he certainly didn’t mention it.

“I’ll see if I can find him. I’ll talk to him, he’ll understand, I know it,” he assured him quietly, moving his hand down to rub soothing circles against Harry’s back as he cried silently and turned towards Peter, pushing his face against his throat, arms wrapping around his middle, squeezing hard as he cried, his forehead pressing to the pulse of his carotid artery and Peter could hear it in his ears and he squeezed his eyes shut as he held onto him tight.

How the hell was he going to do this?

~

Once Harry had calmed down, Peter took his leave, promising to do his best to find Spider-Man and that he would come back as soon as he had news; good, bad, or otherwise. He walked home, not feeling like slipping on his mask. It took him a long time to get back and it was already dark when he walked in the door, Aunt May on the phone and looking worried right as his phone began ringing in his pocket.

She turned when he walked in and had pulled out his phone to stare down at the screen. “Peter! There you are! Oh my gosh, where have you been?”

“I was at Harry’s—what? What’s wrong?” he asked, almost tripping as she rushed forward and hugged him tight.

“Nothing. I just…I hadn’t seen you since last night when you went to bed. Why didn’t you tell me you were going out? You know I worry,” she chided him and Peter cracked a small smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

“M’sorry, I forgot. Won’t happen again,” he promised, hearing a soft sigh from his Aunt in return before he pulled away and held her at arm’s length. “I gotta go make a phone call, but then we can eat, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, he rushed up the stairs, leaving his Aunt to throw up her hands in defeat as he ran up to his room and locked the door behind him. For a few moments once he was inside, he lingered next to his desk where he had his pictures of Gwen and himself, as well as the few he had taken of Harry and himself laid out, ready to be put up on his wall.

Light fingertips touched the edges of the photographs, Gwen’s face first, then Harry’s, lingering on each of them for longer than truly necessary. It hadn’t even been a full day since she’d been gone, but it felt like so much longer. He couldn’t lose Harry, too.

Besides his Aunt, they were the only two important people in his life. Harry had been there for him for so long, as such a faithful friend when they were young. Gwen, he loved her with all his heart, loved her fiercely and would protect her until his dying day. Lingering on each of their faces side by side, he realized that he would do the same for Harry.

If nothing else in his life went right, it had to be this. He had to save Harry Osborn.

Shrugging off his backpack, he sat heavily in his desk chair and stared down at his phone again, checking the time just once before dialing Gwen’s number and pressing the speaker to his ear, his other hand coming up so that he could chew on his thumbnail while it rang.

_“Hello?”_ Gwen’s voice was sleepy and scratchy due to probably having been asleep. It was later than he thought it was for her, and she was probably jetlagged.

“Gwen. Hey.”

_“Peter, it’s three in the morning. Please don’t tell me you’ve just called to say hi.”_

“Nope, I’ve got a really big problem and I need your help.”

There were a few long moments of silence from Gwen’s side and Peter had to check his phone just to make sure that she hadn’t hung up on him.

_“Please don’t tell me that you’re in the middle of some life-threatening situation.”_

“I’m not in the middle of some life-threatening situation,” he assured her, hearing a sigh of relief from Gwen before he continued, “Not my life, I mean.”

_“What are you talking about, Peter?”_

“Okay, so, you know Harry Osborn?”

_“Yeah, I mean, who doesn’t? You’re friends with him, right?”_

“Right. Exactly. He’s dying—“

_“What?!”_

“—And he thinks that Spider-Man’s blood is the one thing that can save him. It’s like this genetic disease that his dad had and now he’s got it, and he wants me to talk to Spider-Man and convince him to help and I don’t know what to do, Gwen. If our blood isn’t compatible, he could die!”

Silence met him when he finished and he, again, had to check and make sure that he was still talking to Gwen. “Gwen?”

_“Yeah, I’m here. It’s just a bit hard to process something like this at three in the morning, Peter.”_

“Okay, sure, understandable. Take your time.” Gwen sighed on the other end of the line and he could practically see the little crease that always showed up on her forehead when she was trying to think even when she was exhausted.

_“Alright._ ” She sounded so tired and Peter felt a pang of guilt as he knew she was probably sitting up in bed now, rubbing at her forehead with her eyes closed and her knees hugged to her chest. _“Let me get this straight. Harry Osborn is dying and he thinks the cure is in Spider-Man’s blood. Your blood.”_

“Right.”

_“But he doesn’t know that you’re Spider-Man, so he asked you to find him for him.”_

“Exactly. It wasn’t even meant to work for me, but I found out that my dad put his own DNA in the spiders, which is why it worked for me and turned me into Spider-Man instead of killing me or worse when I got bit. And just because it works for me, that doesn’t mean that my blood will work for Harry.”

_“But you won’t know until you test it out, right?”_

“Yeah, I guess.”

_“So, then test it. Tell him you talked to Spider-Man and he agreed to give you his blood. Take a vial of it with you over to Harry and run tests on it. If it works, then there you go. If it doesn’t, you’ll know before you actually try it directly on him.”_

While Gwen was really only saying what Peter himself had already been considering, hearing it come from her made it sound so much better. She was so smart, _so_ smart, and she was so level-headed and calm and it she was a saint, she really was.

“Okay. Okay, I can do that.”

_“Okay. That it?”_

“Yeah. That’s it.”

_“You sure?”_

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

_“Okay. Goodnight, Peter.”_

“Night. Oh! Wait! Gwen?”

_“Yes, Peter?”_

“I—“ he paused, swallowing the words he was originally going to say before licking his lips and trying again. “I hope your classes go well.”

_“Thanks, Peter. I’ll talk to you later.”_

Dropping his phone onto his desk, Peter turned and pressed his elbows on the wooden surface and gripped fistfuls of his hair, his leg bouncing as he caught eye of his photos again. Gwen was smiling in his last picture taken with her, laughing as he made a face with their cheeks pressed close together. The sunlight shone brilliantly off of her hair and it was almost like a halo around her even in the photo.

With Harry, Peter was grinning wide with his arm wrapped around his friend’s shoulders. He’d managed to make him laugh, his sunglasses askew just slightly as he gripped Peter’s shirt. They were pressed just as close together as he had been with Gwen, holding Harry in his grip, intent to never let him go. He’d gone so long without having Harry, without ever experiencing that same deep friendship that ran between them and he wanted to never lose it again.

Both photos were from days that stood out like scenes playing frame by frame in his mind, remembering each one with vivid clarity. At some point while he was looking between the photos again, it occurred to him that perhaps he shouldn’t feel the same wave of pure love when he looked at each of them, but he did. And that was okay.

All it meant was that he knew exactly what he had to do.

~

“Hey, Harry?” Peter called, this time having been let in by a security guard at the gate and then one of the staff that kept the huge house running even when Harry wasn’t around. He’d been let in and then suddenly left alone, almost immediately finding himself lost. So far, he had found a bathroom, the dining room, the kitchen, and now he finally stood in a huge living room, gazing all around the room until he saw slight movement from the couch.

“Harry?” he asked again, softer this time but Harry still startled and pushed himself up shakily, looking exhausted until his eyes landed on Peter. As soon as he saw him, a smile broke out onto his lips and he sat up, knees pressing into the couch and his hips pushed against the back.

“Peter. C’mere, sorry, I was just, uh, napping,” he said quickly, clearing his throat as he gestured for Peter to come join him on the couch.

“No worries.” With a shake of his head and a half-shrug, he crossed the distance and hopped over the back of the couch, landing squarely beside Harry with a smile. His friend’s tired, red-ringed eyes were hopeful as he looked at him, settling in beside him.

“So, what brings you to my humble abode today, Peter Parker?” he asked, smirking even as Peter pulled his backpack off and set it on the floor in between his feet instead.

“Well, Mr. Osborn—“ he began, immediately getting cut off.

“No, don’t.”

Peter froze, pulling his hands back from his bag and sitting up straighter, meeting Harry’s eyes, concerned. Had he done something wrong?

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t call me Mr. Osborn. I know you’re joking but, we’re friends. I only let people I don’t like call me Mr. Osborn,” he explained, reaching up to rub the heel of his hand against his eyes, then fixing his hair as best he could, fingers dropping down to rub at the mark on his neck.

“Oh. Right, okay. Sorry. Should I start again?” Peter asked, making Harry grin again, chuckling.

“What, like you’re giving a presentation? No, just tell me!”

Immediately as Harry smiled, Peter went back to opening up his bag and carefully pulling out the box he had stored carefully in the bottom of his bag. Handing it to Harry, he just got a curious look at first, making Peter wave his hands at him, making the blond laugh again before he looked down to the box in his hands.

It was just a regular cardboard box, taped together on top with a bit of scotch tape that was easy enough to open. Inside, there was entirely too much bubble wrap, the amount of it practically spilling out when Harry opened it up and reached inside. His fingers closed around a cylindrical shape when he got past all of the bubble wrap and he froze before he could pull it out, wide eyes darting up and catching Peter’s with disbelief.

“Peter, you—“

“Just take it out, already!”

Not needing to be told again, Harry pulled it out and saw the sealed crimson liquid in the clear glass vial, his hand shaking gently as he looked down at it.

“Oh my god, is this really—“

“Yeah, Spider-Man’s blood.”

“Peter!” Harry cried, his eyes wet out of pure joy, his shaking fingers wrapping around the vial carefully, not wanting to let anything happen to it.

“I know, I’m the best.”

“You are,” Harry agreed, not a hint of sarcasm or playful jabs in his words, just a sob and a smile as he clutched the vial to his chest. His head bowed and Peter could see the wet drops of tears soaking into his pants as his shoulders shook. “You’re the best friend I could have ever asked for.”

For a long moment, Peter considered not telling him that it wasn’t as easy as it all seemed. Not mentioning that they had to do test after test, just to make sure that their blood matched and wouldn’t kill Harry or turn him into something like Dr. Connors. Just letting him have this moment.

Oh, how he wanted to just let him be happy.

“There’s one thing, though,” he told him, swallowing hard as Harry sniffed and reached up to wipe away the wet tracks that were staining his cheeks.

“What? What is it?” His eyes were wide and scared and Peter’s heart was breaking a little more as each second passed.

“Spider-Man and I, we both agreed, we can’t just let you inject it into you right off. It’s not safe. It wouldn’t be safe even if you weren’t sick. We just have a few tests to do first, to make sure that nothing will go wrong.” As he explained, Peter did his best to keep their eyes locked, his voice calm and slow and friendly. The last thing he wanted was to upset Harry.

The blond looked away and down to the vial in his hands, fingers still shaking and he swallowed hard. Peter could practically hear the gears turning in his head, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

“It shouldn’t take long,” Peter added, pressing his palm to Harry’s thigh, squeezing lightly. God, he hoped that Harry would trust him with this, would let him do all the tests necessary to make sure that he would be safe. “I just want you to be safe, Harry. Safe and healthy and happy.”

“You sound like,” Harry began, pausing to swallow hard and shake his head with his eyes slipping shut, “like my mom.”

“Well, someone’s gotta be your mother hen, right?” Peter asked, joking softly but still speaking the truth. If he had to fuss over Harry for his own well-being, then so be it. He was determined to keep him safe in ways that were not dissimilar to how he wanted to keep Gwen safe.

Harry chuckled, a soft, sad sound and he wheezed for a moment, still letting tears slip from his eyes and land on his pants, dampening the fabric and even letting the saltwater land on Peter’s hand. He didn’t mind and Harry didn’t notice.

“Okay,” he finally said, nodding and looking up. He still clutched the vial to his chest, as if keeping it close to him would make the cure seep in through his skin and work as soon as it possibly could. Peter would be worried if he had a harsh grip on it, but Harry’s hands were still shaking and he was holding it as carefully as one might hold a baby.

“Good,” Peter replied, smiling as he slid closer to Harry again, pressing their sides together as he leaned in and pressed the bridge of his nose to the side of Harry’s face. His eyes slipped shut, just resting against his friend and rubbing gently at his thigh. “We can start today, if you want. We can work at Oscorp, if that’s alright. I don’t have the right tools for it, but I figured you guys would.”

A gentle nod came in reply and Harry let one hand fall to grasp Peter’s as he hiccupped softly, still crying. And even though Peter knew they were tears of joy, he still didn’t like it that Harry was crying. He didn’t want him to cry, not when so much good would be in his future. He knew there would be so much good. He would make sure of it.

“C’mere,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around him again and pulling Harry to his chest, tucking his blond head underneath his chin again. Without any sort of hesitation or struggle, Harry turned and pressed his face against Peter’s chest, soaking his shirt with tears instead of letting them fall onto his pants. For a long time, Peter just kept them like that, rocking him gently and murmuring soft words into his hair until Harry wore himself out and fell asleep against his chest, the vial still clutched gently in his fingers before Peter took it away to keep it from getting broken.

~

The first test failed.

Peter tried to just mix two small samples of their blood together straight, not adding anything but equal parts blood. His blood – Spider-Man’s blood – attacked Harry’s and looked fatal even with the naked eye, turning a dark black color and almost looking like it was boiling.

Harry cried for the rest of the day, going between throwing things, shouting at Peter, and curling into himself and rocking back and forth on the floor beside where Peter was working.

The second test was just as much a failure as the first.

The third looked stable for no more than a full minute before it reacted violently.

They finished the first day being no closer to a cure, and Harry looked like death warmed over as he said goodbye to Peter and wrapped his arms around his middle.

The guilt in Peter’s gut made his insides roil and he went home with a splitting headache and an ache in his stomach that had him crouched over the toilet at least once during the night. He hadn’t been able to sleep, so instead he spent the entire night researching, planning, deciding once and for all that he would do whatever it took to save Harry Osborn’s life, even if it took the rest of his.

The public was beginning to wonder where Spider-Man had gone. It had been over a week since he was last spotted and Peter honestly couldn’t care any less than he already did. He had a purpose even as Spider-Man, and that was to keep people safe. When someone close to him was in danger, that person would get all of his attention, no matter how long it took.

~

The next tests failed too. Harry’s skin was too pale, too gaunt, too sickly. It made Peter want to set down his notes and wrap his arms around his friend, let him rest against his chest, draw in his warmth as he stroked his hair.

Instead, he just worked harder. He didn’t leave the lab, even when Harry left to go home that night, leaving him as the only one left in the entire Oscorp tower. He didn’t mind, the quiet helped him think.

Twenty-three. Twenty-three tests had come and gone and Peter sat up straight in his chair as Harry laid out on one of the nearby tables that he’d cleared the equipment off of. He had looked eerily like a corpse for the past hour, barely even moving, his chest rising and falling so minutely that Peter had called out to him just to make sure he hadn’t died right in front of him.

But as soon as Peter sat up straight and dropped the clipboard he had been scribbling on, Harry’s head turned slowly to face him, watching him with a curiosity that seemed out of place in his fogged-over eyes.

“What?” he croaked, licking his dry lips and sitting up slowly, watching as Peter grabbed the clipboard and the sample that he had been working on.

“It’s stable,” he told him, sounding unsure of himself even as he said it.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, standing shakily as he made his way over to Peter, gripping the table hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

“It’s been an hour. It’s still stable and it looks to have improved the quality of your blood,” he murmured, immediately deciding to try the same mixture again, just to be certain. He set the first aside and pulled a second over to repeat the test. During the next hour, they sat side by side, thighs pressed together as they watched the samples. Harry mostly nodded off rather than watching, his head heavy on Peter’s shoulder as Peter kept his arm around his waist so that he wouldn’t slide off of his chair.

The timer went off and Peter shook him awake, looking at the new sample and then looking at the first again. He let out a quick burst of laughter, disbelief evident in his voice as he looked them over again and again.

“They’re stable. They’re both completely stable.”

“Does that mean—“ Harry began, but Peter held up a hand to stop him before he could say it. Whether to prevent him from jinxing it or just to keep him from getting his hopes up too high, he couldn’t say exactly. The point was he didn’t want to say anything for sure just yet.

“Don’t. Not yet. We’ll have to leave them overnight. Just to be safe.”

“But…”

“No, it’s okay, Harry. Really. I’m sure it’ll be fine, but remember what I said.” Peter stepped closer to him and cupped his sallow cheek, Harry’s eyes slipping shut as he nodded.

“Safe, healthy, happy.”

“Exactly. Tomorrow, we’ll find out for sure.”

~

The next morning, something had changed in each of the mixtures. Peter had set up a video camera to watch the samples overnight when they weren’t there to keep an eye on them, so he set about watching through the files before anything else. Over the course of the night, the samples seemed to get more and more vibrant in color, finally evening out to be the color of healthy, fully oxygenated blood.

By now, they were completely stable and no further changes were detected once Peter did a few tests. He turned to Harry and saw the blond’s eyes were wet. There was hope in that gaze, and Peter saw his face light up when he nodded to him. With a few short seconds, he had broken down, sinking to the floor on his knees.

Peter joined him on the floor, just letting him cry for a few minutes, knowing that the emotion must have been overwhelming. Eventually, though, he had to help Harry up and lead him to the chair.

“You ready?” he asked, smiling softly as Harry wiped at his eyes and laughed, rolling up his sleeve as Peter got the solution set up and he tapped the side of the needle, getting the bubbles out and wiping down Harry’s arm with an alcohol wipe.

“So ready,” he told him, laughing through his tears again and he had to take a moment to keep himself from crying any more before they finished. He had to keep a clear head to make sure that nothing went wrong.

Peter waited another moment before Harry looked at him with clear eyes and nodded, breathing in a shaky breath and holding it as Peter slid the needle into his vein. He injected the solution and Peter held his breath as well, even as he pulled the needle out and pressed a cotton ball to Harry’s arm.

They waited in the lab for an hour, each with baited breath as Peter went along with the tests to make sure that his vitals were all okay. He kept Harry hydrated and happy, cracking jokes and playfully punching him in the arm, even nuzzling against him once or twice when Harry’s blue, blue eyes started to get wet again.

An hour passed. Harry’s skin started gaining some color. His cheeks were rosy, he could breathe easier.

Another half-hour passed and Harry’s eyes were bright with life and joy.

Two full hours went by and they were sitting in front of one another on the floor, legs tangled together as Peter’s hands cupped Harry’s cheeks, their lips brushing together, soft kisses being exchanged while Harry laughed.

“Aren’t you with Gwen?” Harry asks, a spark of guilt suddenly in his eyes as he draws back, remembering the beautiful blonde girl in the elevator.

Peter draws back, lips still wet and his fingers still tracing Harry’s jaw as he chewed on his lower lip. “Well…yeah, but no. It’s—“

“Complicated, right. I remember,” Harry interrupted with a sigh, beginning to pull back but he was stopped by Peter’s hands still lingering on his skin, dropping to his throat, staring at the spot where the mark on his neck had been, only leaving a slightly discolored mark now.

“She knows. That I’m bi, I mean,” he explained, meeting Harry’s eyes for a moment before focusing on the mark on his neck again, fingers pressing against his pulse, counting it slowly as he spoke to him. “And I’m, um, polyamorous.”

“Meaning,” Harry begins, looking thoughtful, “what, you want to be in a relationship with more than one person?”

“Well, yeah, but no. I would like it, but it’s not something that I absolutely need. I just…” Peter trailed off, letting his hands fall away from Harry’s skin. It was so much better now, not pale and sickly and even the dark circles under his eyes were beginning to fade. He looked healthy.

Taking pity on him, Harry took Peter’s hand in his own and tugged on him gently, making him look up at him again.

“Let’s head back to mine. It’s more comfortable than a hard laboratory floor,” he explained, feeling alive for the first time in weeks. Peter only replied with a nod and he followed him out after cleaning up the station and tucking away his research so that he would be the only one who knew how to make the cure for Harry.

~

They were on Harry’s bed this time, sitting close and Peter was still touching his skin softly, murmuring about checking him, testing his temperature, but Harry knew he just wanted to touch him. He didn’t blame him, he wanted to touch Peter too. Harry had been so close to death, they had both known that. And now, well.

“Does Gwen know? About the polyamory thing?” Harry asked, curious.

“Yeah. I told her a while back, just so she would know. But she’s in England for school.”

“Do you think she would mind? If we kissed?” Harry asked, getting a shrug in return from Peter.

“I don’t know,” he replied, and Harry picked up his phone and handed it to him, getting a confused stare in return.

“Call her. Find out. If she says that she minds, we’ll stop. If she doesn’t mind, well,” Harry shrugged and Peter tapped on his phone for a few moments before nodding and dialing her number and chewing on his thumbnail again while it rang.

_“Hello?”_

“Hey, Gwen. Um, I’ve got a question.”

_“Does it involve your extracurricular activities?”_ she asked, making Peter glance at Harry, even though he knew that Harry wouldn’t know what that meant even if he could hear her.

“No, it’s not about that,” he mumbled into the receiver. It wasn’t like he only called her when he had a problem as Spider-Man.

_“Alright, now I’m interested. What’s up?”_

“Remember how I told you a while back about me being bisexual and, uh, polyamorous?” he asked, chewing on his thumbnail hard enough to just about break it. Harry grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from his mouth, keeping his fingers pressed to Peter’s pulse and feeling it skyrocket as he spoke to Gwen.

_“Yeah, I remember. Why?”_

“Because I was wondering if you would mind if I kissed Harry. I mean, I know we’re kind of trying the ‘friends’ thing, or we were, but I know you would care about knowing and I didn’t want to hurt you or just assume.”

For a few beats, Gwen stayed quiet, making Peter swallow hard even as Harry rubbed at his pulse to help keep him calm.

_“You know, I don’t think I’d mind,”_ she decided with a decisive hum, making Peter’s eyes light up and he met Harry’s eyes with a smile.

“Really? I mean. You know I love you. I never will stop loving you. Honest. But Harry…Gwen, we got the cure working. He’s gonna be okay. And I kinda realized that I love him like I love you because you’re both my best friends in the whole world and I don’t want to lose either of you.”

_“Peter, you honestly don’t have to explain. I get it. I’m alright with it.”_

“Okay.” Peter chewed on his lip and continued talking to Gwen for a few minutes, just telling her how things were, asking how her classes were going, trying to ignore the feeling of Harry’s fingers sliding against the skin of his neck, but it was incredibly distracting.

As soon as he hung up with the promise to go pick her up from the airport when she got off for break before her semester started, he threw down his phone and leaned in, desperate to press his and Harry’s lips together.

They kissed and it felt so right, just like when he kissed Gwen, and it was even better knowing that Harry was going to be okay. He had saved Harry because Harry had needed him and now he needed Harry just as much.

Exhausted as they both were, they got no further than taking off each other’s shirts and languidly stretching out on Harry’s plush bed like cats enjoying the sunlight. Peter’s head was on Harry’s chest, his ear pressed just above his heart and his eyes slipped shut as he listened to it beating, slow and steady. Harry’s fingers were in his hair and scratching at his scalp gently and Peter turned his head to look up at him, his hands sliding up to touch the curve of his throat, the edge of his jaw, trace his plump lower lip.

Without warning, Harry’s eyes locked with his and he shifted just enough to make Peter’s finger slide into his mouth, Peter’s breath hitching and his heart racing in his chest as Harry’s lips closed around his finger and he sucked softly at his skin.

“Harry,” Peter moaned, pushing himself up to press his lips to the corner of Harry’s mouth, eyes slipping shut as he kissed at his friend’s skin, just enjoying being able to touch him and kiss him and not worry about anyone dying. Gwen was still gone, but it wasn’t forever. She would be back soon. The three of them could be together.

For the first time in a very long time, Peter Parker was happy.


End file.
